


Annual Enemy

by tianxia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cock Slut, Dean Gives Oral Sex, Deepthroating, Dubious Consent, M/M, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Inexperience, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-09 01:21:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12877155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tianxia/pseuds/tianxia
Summary: Dean is captured in the annual battle between two kingdoms. An enemy officer makes a deal with him: sex in exchange for better conditions for his men during their week-long capture.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dub-con because a big reason Dean agrees to have sex is so the soldiers under his command will have better treatment during their confinement.

Dean sat on his knees on the ground in the enemy's tent. Shit. He'd been captured. The enemy forces had decided to try a new tactic. Their front line had given away, not so easily as to draw suspicion, slowly, and Dean's unit had been drawn into their side, fighting forward until they realized, too late, they were surrounded, cut off from the rest of their forces. 

The canvas of the tent snapped as one of the guards outside opened it and the thud of boots came toward Dean. Hands tied behind his back, he glared up at the commander of the unit that had captured him. 

He was taller than Dean and broad-shouldered. His chestnut hair had a golden shine in the candlelight and was tussled and clumped; classic helmet hair. Yet it looked good on him. "You know how this goes." He said, and reached down, undoing his belt.

Dean felt his throat go dry. Their two kingdoms held a war game, a battle with wooden swords and shields each winter. It was a mock of the frequent battles they used to have. The two countries had fought so frequently, they had almost suffered mutual destruction. When over half the able-bodied population was out fighting and dying, there weren't enough people to farm and produce food. For the sake of survival, the two nations had come to an agreement. They would battle once a year, after the harvest, on the winter solstice. The winner would get a full third of whatever the loser had produced that year: crops, textiles, metal works. The loser would still keep two thirds of its products and be able to survive through the winter. Through this solution, both countries would be able to go on living, fighting and profiting off each other.

It wasn't bloodless, however. People still died in the mock battle. The goal was to capture your enemy, not kill, but people were well motivated to fight. Giving up a full third of everything you made during the year was a scary prospect, and receiving a third of whatever someone else had made was an enticing one. 

Still, more people survived the annual battle. Soldiers got better at fighting; generals more skilled in tactics. 

This had been Dean's third time as a commander. The first two times, they had won. He had only needed a third win to get a promotion. And, of course, Dean thought, cheeks burning in embarrassment, this was the year his nation lost. 

He had heard that captured soldiers who caught the fancy of enemy officers were encouraged to perform... services, in exchange for better treatment. All captives were retained by the enemy for a week as the winner went and took their right to a third of the loser's products. Keeping the soldiers captive discouraged anyone from fighting when the winners came to claim their prize. It kept the treaty intact. 

The year before he had become commander, they had lost and he had been captured, but no one in the enemy camp had asked services of him. The two years during which they had won, he had been interested in a couple of the men he had captured, but never went through with proposing an arrangement, and none of the captives had come to him to ask. This was the first year he had apparently caught another's eye. 

"I'm not interested." He growled. 

The enemy officer's eyebrows rose up in surprise. "Has no one told you?" He asked, continuing to undo his pants. "When you're a commander, you're not doing this so you get better treatment." He was halfway through the snaps on his pants. "You're doing this so the men under you get better treatment. Don't you remember being a captured solider and suddenly receiving a hot meal, a blanket?" He asked. 

Dean froze. Shit. They had been given blankets after a couple of rough, cold nights the year he had been captured. He had thought the enemy had done so out of kindness and fair play; wanting to preserve the goodwill of the treaty. Apparently not. 

All the snaps were undone and Dean saw the man had a large package. He swallowed. 

"This is how you get blankets for your men, so they don't freeze." The man said. "It's especially cold this year." Dean said nothing. "Come closer." The man ordered.

Looking at the ground, Dean rose to his knees and inched forward. The man's hand came down and threaded through his hair, curling into it to grip it tight. He could smell the sweat and musk of the guy, who apparently hadn't bothered to wash since the battle. He grimaced. 

"Make it wet." The man said. 

Dean looked up. "You still have it covered." The man hadn't removed his undergarment. 

"I know." He smirked. "Show me how much you want it."

Dean fought against rolling his eyes and looked at his task and grumbled before deciding, fuck it, he didn't want his men to freeze. He opened his mouth and pressed against the guy's dick, tongue swiping along the fabric that had soaked up the guy's smell. "Suck." The man ordered. Thinking curses, Dean did so. The action of sucking caused him to salivate more, which was good. Not having done this before, Dean sucked and mouthed at the guy's dick. The hand in his hair guided him, moving him along its length. "Mmm." The man groaned. Dean wasn't sure how long he continued, licking and sucking through the fabric. It felt like a small eternity before the man pulled him off. 

Dean panted, his own dick starting to show interest. The man let him go and he sat back on his heels as the guy poured a cup of water and brought it over to him in a pewter cup. "Drink." Grateful, Dean drank. After five cups, he was somewhat recovered and the man left the cup beside the pitcher to stand over him again, gripping his hair with his right hand. With his left, he slid his undergarment down and released his dick. 

Dean's eyes widened. Fuck. 

"Like what you see?" The man asked, his voice sounding amused. Dean shot him a dirty look. The guy had a crooked smile as he looked down at him and Dean wondered if he'd have been better off dying in the battle. He held up his cock to Dean's lips and pressed against them, asking entry. Dean's mouth thinned as he pressed his lips together. "Come on, baby." The man crooned. Dean twitched and slowly opened his mouth. "Good boy."

But instead of pressing inside, the man traced his lips with the tip. Dean opened his mouth wider and the guy tapped him on the cheek with it. Dean glared murder. 

"If I told you to ask for it, you'd probably bite." The man laughed. "Don't worry though, I'll have you gagging for it soon." And he pushed in. 

It was so thick, Dean's jaw pressed further down as it went in, pressing his lips over his teeth. And if he had thought the undergarment had smelled like the man, the man's dick tasted stronger. He let out a huffing cough around it, chest tight as it reached the back of his mouth. He opened his eyes to see that most of the dick was still in front of him. Shit.

The man pulled out a ways until just the head was in his mouth. "Wrap your lips around me. That's it." He encouraged. "Rub your tongue on the bottom, suck at it gently." Breathing through his nose, Dean did so. "Rub your tongue all around it, over the tip. Good." The man groaned. "Keep sucking." 

Dean sucked a little harder, moving his tongue all around, tasting him. He pressed the flat of his tongue against the tip and rubbed up and down, similar to what he did with his thumb on his own dick when he jerked off. "Yesss." The guy said in praise. "Good." 

He pressed in more and Dean jerked in surprise. "Shh." The guy said. "Suck."

Eyes scrunched tight, Dean did so. The hand in his hair pulled him back a little, and then pressed him forward, making him bob on the dick. Back and forth, Dean rocked on his knees, sucking and licking, getting hard in his own pants as they continued.

"Harder." The man said, his breathing harsh. "Hollow your cheeks." Dean looked up at him and sucked, hard. The man swore. Instead of letting Dean bob on him, he started thrusting in and out. 

"Mmph!" Dean protested as it hit the back of his throat. The man ignored him and Dean pulled at his restraints. "Mmph!" 

The man adjusted his grip in Dean's hair, his fingers tangling at the back of his head, which was a warning. On the next thrust he didn't stop at the back of his throat. He went down it. Dean choked and sputtered, his heretofore virgin throat muscles fluttering around the cock. 

"Oh, fuck." The man groaned and pushed deeper, which Dean hadn't thought possible. He jerked and tried to pull off, but the man held him, forced him to take it, and drool around it. 

"Gggh!" Dean tried to yell, but ended up humming around the dick in him. 

"Mmmm." The man moaned. Dean twisted. Shit! He couldn't breathe! "Moan around my dick again." He ordered and Dean twisted. What the hell was he talking about? 

"Ggghh!" Dean said. 

"Uggh." The man threw his head back in pleasure and slipped his dick from Dean's throat, back into his mouth. Dean panted around it, spit dripping. 

Dean leaned back and the man let him, cock falling from his lips. "What the fuck was that?" Dean demanded. "Are you trying to kill me?" 

The man looked at him, his eyes half-closed in pleasure, his large dick spit-slick and shiny from Dean's work. 

"You've never sucked cock before." He said. "You look good doing it." Dean flushed. "Your lips are all red and swollen. Your eyes are wet with tears.

"And your mouth feels so good, all hot and wet on me, taking me in like a good little cock-sucking whore."

"Wh, what?" Dean sputtered. 

"Don't worry," the man said, "I'll teach you. You'll just be my whore for the rest of the week. And next year, I'll find you again." 

"Like hell!" Dean yelled. 

The man shifted and pressed a foot between Dean's legs, where his interest was obvious. "Like hell." He said, and made it sound like they had just come to an agreement. 

He guided Dean back closer. "I'm going to go down your throat again, and you're going to let me." He pressed into Dean's mouth and Dean's breath hitched. "Swallow." He said, and pushed. Dean swallowed. 

And he kept swallowing. The dick forced his throat open and he heard slick, suction sounds as it went deeper. "Ugh." He said as it slid down. 

"Breathe through your nose and moan for me." The man ordered and Dean did. "Fucking hell." He started short thrusts, punching an inch in and out of Dean's throat, which protested as Dean alternately gagged and swallowed around the thickness penetrating him as he stayed on his knees. 

The man pulled out some to let him breathe easier. Dean twisted in his grip, rock hard in his own pants, and moaned again. "That's it, baby." The man said. "Suck me." Dean sucked eagerly as the man panted. "That's it. You like being on your knees. You were made for this, taking it. You're so eager." He enjoyed Dean working him. "Ok, baby, we're going all the way now." The man said. 

Dean opened his eyes. What?

The man pressed his head down and Dean couldn't fight it. And this time, the man didn't stop. The dick went to the back of his throat and pressed in. "We're going balls-deep." The man said. "I want your sweet lips wrapped around the base of my dick as you're bent over on your knees, ass out, opening your throat for me and looking at me with those gorgeous teary eyes, tasting a real man's dick."

Dean's eyes rolled back in his head and he came as the man pushed the rest of himself down his throat. "Look at me, baby, look at me." The man said and Dean opened his eyes. "You're fucking perfect."


	2. Chapter 2

"Kaahhhh!" Dean half moaned and half cried around the cock. His knees dug into the dirt. His hands behind his back curled into fists.

"Swallow." Came the order, harsher this time.

Dean tried to pull off, needing to breathe, but the man wouldn't let him; held him close. "Come on, baby, you can do it. Swallow around my big dick." Something seemed to break inside Dean and he cried out, a small sound, and swallowed, and swallowed again and again. Now that he had done it once, it seemed easier. Anything so he could breathe again. "F-fuck, yes." The man said. He waited a couple more seconds enjoying the sensation, of Dean's throat fluttering around his dick before slowly sliding most of the way out of his mouth. 

Dean gasped, drawing in great gulps of air, not caring that saliva was getting everywhere. "Good boy." The man said, and cut off his air again with a quick thrust. Dean almost panicked, not having caught his breath yet, but as quickly as he had thrust, the man retreated. Dean breathed and then, "Guhg." The man thrust again. "Nnnnn." Dean complained. The man chuckled and kept it up. Dean got used to the rhythm. Drag out, breathe in. Slip in, swallow. It was so thick in his mouth there was natural suction and the sounds were obscene as he sucked and choked. 

"Such a good cocksucker." The man praised. Dean opened his eyes. He hadn't realized he had closed them. "Beautiful." The man traced his lips with his thumb. "You're going to be so red and swollen. Everyone's going to know what you did. Everyone's going to know you like it." He hissed. "Because only good boys who like this will have lips so swollen, so used. No one but a cocksucker like you has lips worn red."

"Mnnnnnnhhhhhaaa." Dean agreed and started doing it himself, rocking and bobbing on the dick. The man pet his hair and let him take over the rhythm. He flexed his ass slightly, just to give it a little punch when his dick met the back of Dean's mouth. 

"That's it." He said. "You're doing so well." Eyes watering, Dean looked up at him. "Mm. Such pretty eyes." He cupped his face and swept his thumb over his cheekbone, just under his eye. "Such pretty, cock-sucking lips." He watched Dean's reddened lips stretched tight around him as he went out. "When we finish, you're going to thank me."

Dean shuddered. 

"You're going to thank me for fucking your mouth." He said. "And you'll ask for me to do it again. 

"You'll ask for me to do it so you can get off. So you can slurp and gag on my cock until you fucking come in your pants. And I'll let you. You'll get on your knees for me . You'll kiss it. You'll be so sweet. You'll drink my cum as I fuck it down your throat. But you'll beg me to come in your mouth so you can taste it."

"Nnnnnn." Dean groaned. The wet spot in his pants had cooled. HIs wrists burned from the rope. His knees hurt, pressed in the dirt and supporting all his weight. His head spun from the lack of oxygen. His legs and core trembled. He had freaking fought a battle that day and was exhausted. But he continued to serve the man in front of him; continued to open his mouth.

"Lick me, baby. Don't forget your tongue." The man said. 

Dean jerked at his bonds. That was too much. He was done and it was time the man realized he wasn't completely lost in lust or out of control in this situation. He uncurled his lips from over his teeth so the man could feel them. 

"Oh, so that's how it is." The man said. "You cocky little shit." He curled his fingers of both hands in Dean's hair and pulled. 

"Mmph!" Dean protested. 

The man fucked him. "You like this baby? You like it when I'm doing all the work?" Dean stuck out his tongue to rub against the bottom of the cock to try and make up for it. "Good boy. Such a good boy. See?" The man panted. "Your eager mouth! Here, baby." He withdrew his dick the whole way. "Ask me for it."

Dean panted, too, mouth open, slick lips swollen. He glared. "Fuck you." He rasped out. "I don't care..." He started to say when his voice caught. His voice was rough, so rough it sounded like he had just had a very bad cold and doubted he could speak a full sentence without it catching. 

"Fuck yeah." The man said. "You swallowed me so deeply in your little mouth, you can't speak properly, can you? And, what, you don't want my cum on your face? Tell me where you want my cum, baby. Want me to put it in your stomach?" He asked, stripping his cock with his hand. 

Dean licked his lips. 

"Shit." The man said. "Your fucking mouth." He thrust in again to Dean's surprise and hit the back of his mouth. 

"Mmph!" Dean cried.

"Suck me baby." The man said, breathless. Eyes squeezed shut, Dean sucked hard. The man came. "Aaahhhhhh, yessssss." 

Dean jerked. The cum shot out and the head of the cock went down his throat slightly, shooting the load in him. Having little choice, Dean swallowed. The man pulled out a bit, so the rest of the load landed on his tongue. It was salty, tangy, slippery. He thrust back and forth slightly, rubbing in his own mess, still unloading more cum. It filled his mouth and Dean made a face, not swallowing, hoping to spit it out. 

The man pet his head. "Good boy." Finally, his cock softened and slipped out. Dean closed his mouth, but the man grabbed his chin, tilting his face up. "Show me." He ordered. Dean glared. He smiled. "Show me." Dean opened his mouth slowly, showing the huge white load on his tongue. "Fuck yeah."

The man slid two fingers in his mouth. "Egh?" Dean said. He gathered some on his fingers and withdrew, and put it on Dean's lips, painting them. "Rrrrr." 

"Are you growling at me?" The man asked, smiling, rubbing the cum on him still. Dean showed his teeth. "Really?" He said, continuing, unperturbed. "This is coming from the boy who came in his pants from sucking cock for the first time?" Dean snarled. The man laughed. "Okay, I got it.

"Swallow, baby." He said. Dean, who had relaxed, stiffened. "Ah, was my good boy thinking of spitting when I wasn't looking? No, you're going to swallow it all, baby." Dean's face twitched. "I'm going to watch you do it, and then you're going to open up and show me you did it." They had a short staring contest. Dean couldn't see a way out. The man just smiled at him. Dean balled his hands into fists behind his back. "I'm starting to think you just like the attention." The man said, voice low and smooth. Dean opened his mouth to cuss, and realized he couldn't speak with his mouth full. He made a face and swallowed. "Show me." The man said. When Dean didn't immediately obey, he pressed on the corners of his jaw, forcing it to open, and peered inside. "Perfect."

"I'm going to kill you." Dean promised. 

"You can kill me as much as you want, baby." The man said, releasing him and standing up fully. "In fact, I expect you to kill me a couple times a day." At Dean's confused look, the man laughed. "La petite mort." He explained. "The orgasm is also called 'the little death.' Don't worry." He smiled. "I'll be sure to kill you a few times, too."

Dean shivered. The man smiled, starting to strip. Dean tried not to look and failed. Damn, the man was fit. The man saw him staring, and smiled again, looking like the cat that caught the canary. "You can call me Sam."

"Okay, Sammy." Dean said, clearing his throat.

"It's Sam." The man said.

"Yeah, Sammy, I got it." Dean said. "Get one thing straight, I'm doing this so my men get better treatment: food and blankets." 

"I don't think there's anything "straight" about this. But we can work it out." Sam said. He came over, dressed in only sweat pants. Dean supposed he should be happy Sam didn't sleep in the nude. "How about..." Sam said, reaching down and caressing Dean. "One blow job for ten blankets?"

Dean's eyes widened in horror. He had 250 men under his command. "No way." He spat. "You're going to give them, every one of them, blankets, tonight."

"Mm." Sam intoned. "I am?"

"Yes." Dean stated, standing his ground. 

"And what are you going to give me in return?" Sam asked. "One amateur blow job, while definitely enjoyable... by both parties..." He trailed off and looked at the wet spot in Dean's pants. Dean blushed and didn't meet his eyes when he looked back up. "Isn't worth caviar, exactly."

"What do you want?" Dean asked, gritting his teeth.

"I'm sure we'll think of something." Sam replied. "Now let me tie you to the bed so we can go to sleep."


	3. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

Dean shifted in the bed as the sounds of early morning filtered into the tent. His ankles were tied together and his wrists were tied over his head to the bedpost. He kept his eyes closed, breathing slowly, resting. Sam had allowed him to run a wet washcloth over himself before bed to get the worst of the sweat, dirt, and... other things, off him. His entire body felt sore from the battle and his jaw felt sore from sucking Sam off. His face burned as he remembered the weight of Sam's dick on his tongue, how it forced his mouth open. The slick sounds it made as it fucked his mouth. The pain in his knees as he kneeled in the dirt for him, drooling. And how he had come as the man pushed it down his throat and told him he was a good boy. 

Sam's arm pulled Dean tighter to him. The damn giant had tied him down and then curled up behind him, spooning him all night. Dean had protested more about the spooning than the tying down. Sam had ignored him. 

Sam nuzzled into the curve of Dean's neck. Dean allowed it, rolling his eyes, not that Sam could see. Sam's hand drifted from his stomach to his groin and Dean carefully didn't react. While Sam got to wear sweatpants to bed, Dean was denaied any clothing. He had undressed to wash off and Sam stole his clothing, leather armor and all and told him to get on the bed. 

The man's hand brushed over his dick and he gave a love bite to his neck. "Oh, is this for me?" Sam asked, feeling Dean's morning wood. 

"It's just morning wood." Dean grumbled. "Ignore it."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked, giving another love bite. "That it's just morning wood," bite, "not because you were remembering," bite, "what we did last night?"

"I'm not a fucking chew toy!" Dean shot back, twisting his torso to get his neck away from Sam who had been about to bite again. Sam grasped his cock and squeezed. Dean grimaced. 

"You're forgetting something." He whispered. "You're mine."

"I have to be your captive for a week." Dean said. "Nothing more."

"Mm, we'll see about that. You already agreed to be something more." Said Sam. Dean had put some distance between them when he had twisted to prevent Sam's biting, and now Sam pulled him close again, slotting them together so Dean's ass pressed against his groin. Through the sweatpants, Dean could feel Sam. Sam started sucking a hickey on his neck and stroked his cock and he groaned. 

After a minute Sam raised his hand to Dean's mouth and ordered him to lick it. "Use your tongue." Seeing as it was to his benefit, Dean did so, and gasped when Sam stroked him again. He flexed his ass and hips, rocking gently with Sam's stroking. Sam played with his foreskin and rubbed the head hard. 

"Ngh!" Dean threw his head back at the pleasure and Sam took the opportunity to attack another part of his neck. "Not your chew toy!" Dean gasped out.

Sam slowed his stroking, and brought his hand up to Dean's mouth again. Dean groaned and licked it, getting it wet. This time Sam inserted two fingers in his mouth and without complaint, Dean sucked on them eagerly, twining his tongue around them. Even the bastard's fingers were big. The man withdrew and added a finger. Dean sucked at them in a rhythm and Sam's hips thrust against him gently at the same pace. Then he added his forth finger, spreading his lips wide, and Dean moaned, clenching his muscles, turned on. He ran his tongue over and acrross all of them, soaking them in his saliva. Satisfied, Sam withdrew and this time when he wrapped his hand around Dean's dick, Dean yelled. 

"Ahh! Shit!" Dean cried. Sam jerked him off and thrust against him, leaving claiming marks all over his neck. He bit down to leave another love bite and Dean came, shooting his spend so hard, it went over the couple inches of bed and fell to the ground. "Nnngghhh." Dean shivered. 

Sam nipped at him. "Good boy."

"Holy fuck." Dean said. Sam rubbed him gently till he complained. "So, what do I have to do for you?" He asked. Sam didn't respond. "Just tell me!" Dean said. 

"You don't have to do anything." Sam responded."Your life and your men's lives are safe. Anything extra, is extra." 

"Yeah, yeah." Dean grumbled. "I remember how cold and hungry I got the last time I was captured as a soldier. Those "extra" blankets seemed pretty necessary."

"So, the real question is, what do you want to do for me?" Said Sam, stressing the word "want." 

"You're a real dick, you know that, right?" Dean asked. Sam hummed, not disagreeing. "I want to do whatever will get all of my men blankets for the rest of their confinement, and one hot meal a day." Dean said. "Like soup or gruel, nothing fancy." 

"Why nothing fancy?" Sam asked. Dean could feel the man's smile. "Do you think that means I would require something fancy in exchange?"

"I don't know what the hell you're into and, hey, that isn't my businesses, and I don't want to make it my business." Dean said. 

"I like it when pretty boys with green eyes still press forward to take more of my cock down their throat even as they gag on it." Sam said, voice deep with lust. 

"Fine." Dean said and tried to sit up before his wrists and Sam's arm over him halted his attempt. "Fine." He said, turning around in Sam's arms to look him in the eye. "I'll give you one blow job a day for one meal a day for my men."

"Hmm, one blow job for a few hundred meals?" Sam asked, the light in his eyes was mischievous. "I think not. How about three blow jobs, one at each meal, and at the end of the day, if I'm satisfied, I'll have them fed." 

Dean glared. At that rate, he wouldn't be able to talk for a month afterward. "Two a day." He countered. "And they don't have to be blow jobs. I get you off in the morning and at night, with my hands or mouth, and we're done." 

"Hmm." Sam sounded, considering. "No deal."

"What?" Dean challenged, narrowing his eyes.

"I want your ass." He said, giving it a squeeze. 

"You've literally got my ass in your hand already." Dean said, carefully playing innocent. He knew what Sam meant. Hell, being in the military usually involved drinking on a low income. The alleys behind seedy bars could be shocking places on a Saturday night. Or a Sunday night. Or a Monday night. Any night, really. He had seen all combinations of genders getting busy in dark corners just beyond the street lamp. Dean had wondered what it would be like to have a tryst, but, nothing about the actions or the place had seemed particularly... hygienic. Recent events had confirmed it. He could still taste Sam. 

Having a relationship didn't appear desirable, either. Ninety percent of the radio songs were about heartbreak. And in the military community, there was a chance that the person you boned yesterday and left without a note would be the technician you had to rely on tomorrow. Not that that stopped most people. Knowing he was on the officer track and not wanting complications, Dean had focused on his career. 

That didn't mean he was any stranger to nude bars, clubs, and porno, or getting sucked off by a pretty civilian woman once in a while. Yet, he was largely, personally, inexperienced. 

Sam's pupils blew up. "You mean you don't know?"

"Know what?" Dean asked. 

Sam shifted, rising up so he was on his knees and elbows over Dean. He looked at him, up and down, all Dean on display. "I know I'm pretty. What? You wanna get a painter in here?" Dean asked, stretching out to show off more. 

"That might not be a bad idea." Sam muttered and sat back on his haunches to run his hands over Dean, from his chest to his flanks. Dean scowled. "Twice a day." Sam said, sounding eager. "Sex twice a day, however I want, and I'll give all of your men blankets now, and a hot meal a day." 

Dean considered it, thinking about if there was any trap or anything he was missing. "Fine." He said. "Deal."

Sam smiled and crawled up till his semi-hard cock was in Dean's face. "Kiss it good morning." He said. 

Dean did so, putting his hands on Sam's thighs. "Mwah!" He said, smacking a closed-lip kiss to it. "Good morning, honey. How was your night? You must not have slept well if you're this stiff." Sam looked at him like he was crazy. "Okay," Dean said, patting Sam's leg, "get up. It's breakfast time."

Sam arched an eyebrow. "Did you forget about our agreement so soon?"

Dean grinned. "We already had sex. Just because you didn't get off, doesn't mean we didn't have sex. I did get off, though, so thank you."

Sam stared some more. Below him, Dean awkwardly tapped his fingers. Sam's cock was still in his face and it was hard to ignore given he had to look past it to see Sam's face. And then, the corner of Sam's mouth went down, a muscle in his cheek twitched. Dean wondered if the guy was going to combust from sexual frustration. HIs lips thinned and then he was suddenly smiling so large, Dean was spooked. 

He moved back some and bent down. He brushed Dean's hair out of his face and kissed him, so long and dirty, Dean got slightly hard. Breaking apart, Sam whispered to him, "Okay, but you're going to regret that.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NON-CON SEX ACT! In this chapter, while Dean generally agreed to have sex with Sam, he didn't agree to this particular act and Sam gives him no choice in the matter. Please don't read if this bothers you.

They had dinner sitting on crates. Dean had overseen his men receiving the blankets. The sky was gray and there was a bite in the air that promised snow. Sam had allowed Dean to wear his normal clothes, but not his armor, which had been a big help in retaining heat, so Dean gratefully accepted the ale. Or he had thought it was ale.

"What is this?" He sputtered at the first drink. 

Sam frowned at him, as if he had asked what the moon was. "It's corn hooch." He said. "Alcohol made from corn silk - the stringy stuff between the corn and its husk, its leaves."

"Why the hell would anyone make alcohol from that?" Dean exclaimed. 

"Maybe because your kingdom took all of our whiskey and wine for the last two years." Sam said dryly. "Man cannot survive on bread alone. It's pretty smart actually, making alcohol, something highly demanded, from something we normally throw away."

Dean took another drink and shuddered. "I'm pretty sure you should have kept throwing it away." He muttered. 

"This new year, we won't have to drink that." Sam said. "But you might want to mention the idea to your kingdom. I'm sure our people are going to return the favor this year." 

Dean made a face. "As long as there's still some ale, I'll be fine."

"Ale?" Sam asked. "What, wheat tea? My piss has more alcohol content than that." 

"You take that back." Dean said.

Sam laughed. "Nah, not going to happen." 

"I bet you like those fruity little drinks with.... coconut... and stuff." Dean said. 

"Those "fruity little drinks" have seven times the alcohol that beer does!" Sam laughed. "I'll tell you what, you drink that whole thing of corn hooch, and I won't make fun of your wheat tea." 

Dean growled and took a big swig of it. He grimaced as it burned all the way down to his stomach and left a sickly, sticky-sweet taste in his mouth. "That's disgusting." He stabbed a fork at the last bit of potatoes on his plate. "I can see why you were motivated to win this year." Sam smiled. But Dean couldn't let it rest. "If you guys were man enough, you wouldn't have lost for two years in a row." Sam's smile disappeared and his eyes glinted. "I mean, I don't even like wine and I had top-shelf pick while you guys were drinking," he swirled his mug with the corn hooch, "this stuff. We had so much wine, I gave some to my dogs." He drank more and made a face as he swallowed. "I'll tell you what. Next year when I win, I'll get a promotion and if you ever want to have some wine that year, you can come visit. You'll just have to crawl on all fours and wear dog ears, and I'll put some in a bowl on the floor for you. How'd you like that?" Dean asked, grinning at him.

"What do you mean you'll get a promotion?" Sam asked. 

Dean frowned. Bastard hadn't risen to his bait and had pointed out the only important piece of information he had let slip. "It's just the military rules of my country. I'm not going to tell your our internal politics."

"Politics?" Sam asked. "I thought we were talking about military rules."

Dean cussed. "Never mind. Forget I said something." He took another drink and shuddered. "I'm going to get more food; I hadn't eaten anything all day. Do you want anything?" 

"No." Sam said, not looking up. When Dean was a good ways away, he added to his cup. Dean came back and finished another potato.

Finished with his own food, Sam announced, "we're going to a show tonight."

"A show?" Dean burped. 

Sam rolled his eyes. "Take your drink, let's go." 

They walked almost halfway across the camp, quite a ways, to a clearing that was beginning to fill up with people. Dean looked around and noticed all the people were from the enemy kingdom. "Are you sure I'm supposed to be here?"

"It's a celebration thing." Sam said. 

"I'm not about to celebrate." Dean responded. 

"Just watch." He ordered. 

A while later a performance troop came into the clearing, obvious in brightly-colored costumes. In the center, they did a skit about the founding of their kingdom, how it was obviously better than all other kingdoms. Dean's kingdom was portrayed by a short, fat man whose pants kept falling down. Sam had to stop Dean from jumping in once and beating the shit out of the handsome, tall character that was obviously representing Sam's kingdom, and was smarter and ran around the others in circles. Dean drank more hooch so he wouldn't remember the travesty. 

"Why would you even bother to run in circles?" Dean yelled as they walked back. "You just go in straight, everyone knows it's a fight, you knock the shit out of them, and you're done. You don't dance around like a prissy son-of-a-bitch!"

"Shhh!" Sam said. "Does everyone from your kingdom get louder the more you drink?"

"You're damned right it's my kingdom!" Dean said. "I'm from the Hunter Family!"

Sam stopped in his tracks. The Hunter Family was one of the most powerful families in Dean's kingdom. They were the military leaders. They made money by being guards, fighters, and assassins, both for the kingdom, and for other allied kingdoms. They provided everything from royal palace guards to the top swordsmen in the continent. 

"You're from the Hunter Family." Sam repeated. 

"Yeah," Dean said. He realized Sam had stopped walking and turned back to look at him. "Eldest son. But," he hick-uped, "don't tell anyone. None of us are allowed to say our family name because we've gotta work our way up on our own." He leaned against a post meant for horses. "You won't tell anyone, will you?" He asked the post. 

"Huh." Sam snorted in laughter. "What happens when you're promoted?"

Dean hugged the post. "Thank you." He told it. "You're such a good friend."

"We're getting you coffee." Sam said, and dragged him away. 

Two cups of coffee and one cup of water down, Dean was looking better. Sam sat beside him on the bed. and kissed him. Dean moaned and leaned towards him. Sam thumbed his nipples through his shirt and Dean bit his lip. 

"Do you want me to suck you?" Sam asked. 

"What guy is going to say no?" Dean replied. He shucked off his clothes with all the grace of a drunken bear, and lay in the middle of the bed, hands behind his head like he didn't have a care in the world. He wiggled his hips. "Get to it." 

Sam rolled his eyes, grabbed Dean's arm and hauled him up and over to the center post of the tent. He wrapped rope around his wrists in a figure eight, then looped one tail around the center of the figure eight and knotted the ends of the tails together, leaving the length of the other tail as a loop, which he threw around a hook near the top of the post. 

"Kinky." Dean had said when Sam wrapped the rope around his wrists. "Hey, what the fuck?" He said as Sam forced his arms up and looped the rope over the hook. It forced him on his toes and left him scrabbling. He wrapped his fingers around the rope and tried to hold himself up and take the weight off his wrists. His toes barely touched the ground, his body was pulled to its full extension, muscles taught. 

Sam stepped back. "Now I should get the painter." 

"You sick fuck!" Dean yelled, kicking. "Ahg!" He placed his foot on the pole and pulled up, curling his body. He was trying to get leverage to unhook the rope. Sam came over with a bucket of water and yanked on his ankle to stop him. "Ooff!" 

Sam slapped the wet wash cloth on his head and started scrubbing. "Let me down, you bitch." Dean yelled.

"Shut up, jerk." Sam said, dipping the wash cloth in the water again. 

"Like fucking hell!" Dean said and jerked a knee up, trying to hit Sam in the stomach. Sam evaded, stuffed the washcloth in his mouth and reached down for another cloth. By the time he was done, Dean was wet, cold, angry, and still gagged. He glared at Sam, still hanging by his wrists, trying to stand on his tip-toes. But he was clean everywhere. 

Sam fetched a dry blanket and rubbed him down, jostling his body back and forth. Dean grunted. Sam realized Dean had worked the gag almost all the way out of his mouth, so he pressed it back in, ignored the muffled curses and another kick, tossed the blanket and got out a pot of oil. "Now," he said, dipping a couple fingers in it, "you're going to be good."

Dean narrowed his eyes. What, was the man going to torture him with hot oil? Sam grasped his dick and started a rhythm. Dean threw his head back. Or, rather, he tried to and knocked his head into the post. "Uww." He tried to say "ow."

Sam snorted a laugh, and went down on him. "NNnhgggghhh!" It was hot and wet, and, damn, the man could suck. Dean parted his legs to give him more room, but that meant all his weight was on his wrists and on his hands where he grasped his own bonds. He panted and Sam held him still against the post. Sam went all the way down and then withdrew in a long, drawn-out slurp. Dean went cross-eyed. "Ugh." Dean clenched his abdominal muscles when Sam tongued the slit. His arms jerked and his fists hit the post with a thwack as the man did a swirl motion and hollowed out his cheeks. Sam worked him till he was a twitching mess. 

Then Dean felt something behind him. It was... a hand? He looked down at Sam who had stopped working him so hard. He felt something press along his taint, smooth and cool, as if it were looking for something. It came to his anus and paused, circled, and pressed. Dean's eyes grew wider. "Nnnuuuhhhh!" He clenched, but Sam sucked him hard suddenly, flicked his tongue over him, and surprised with pleasure, Dean unclenched, and the first slick digit of the finger pressed in. 

Realizing he'd been tricked, Dean snarled and jerked as Sam pressed deeper. Sam withdrew from his cock and looked up at him. "That's a good boy." He said, pupils dilated with lust. Dean stared back. That's when Dean knew he was going to be screwed. 

Sam drew his finger out, then pushed it back in, simple motions. "This is the first time you've had something in here, isn't it?" Sam asked. Dean gave a snarl of an answer and Sam kissed just under his belly button. "You're so hard for it, baby." Sam said. 

It was probably good Dean was gagged at that point as he might have said something that would have gotten him killed. "Uuuwwwwuuuuueerrrrr mmmuuuupphhheeeeerrr, uuuueeeehhhaaaa..." he went on telling Sam exactly what he thought of him, his parentage, his usual sexual habits, and his death in the near future, as Sam sucked hickies into his skin, and added a finger. Dean's breath huffed through his nose and he bit down on the gag. The two fingers pressed open muscles that were almost always closed, forcing them to accept it and widen. Once the next sphincter muscle was a little open, the fingers would dip out only to slide back in and press their advantage, caressing all the way up, making that muscle take it, and going to the next. 

"Breathe." Sam said, as a third finger lined up at his entrance. This one hurt. Dean cried out as it breached him and Sam groaned. "Good boy." All three fingers pressed in and Dean twisted. 

"Nnhh!" He yelled. 

Sam kissed his hip. "You're doing so well, baby. You're dripping for it; taking my fingers up your virgin ass. It feels good to you." Dean shook his head. It was an invasive ache. "Doesn't it feel good?" Sam asked and licked his cock. 

"Ugh!" Dean's breath left him as all three fingers punched in as deep as they could go. 

"Good boy." Sam said and sucked him again as his fingers started to move. At one point he added more oil. Dean couldn't help it and rocked forward into the hot mouth on him. After a couple minutes Sam stopped sucking him and Dean continued rocking. "Look at you, my excellent boy, rocking back on my fingers." Dean's eyes flew open and he fought to stop himself. It had felt good. That shitting fucktard!

"Don't worry, baby." Sam gave him another love bite. "I'll fill you with something bigger to satisfy your little hole, and you can rock back on me all you want." Sam took his fingers out and groped his ass, stood up, took the gag out, and kissed Dean so hard it was less like a kiss and more like he was fucking his mouth. Dazed and stiff from being held in that extended position, Dean didn't fight when Sam unhooked him and tossed him toward the bed. 

Dean's legs hit the bed frame and he tumbled down on it. Sam came up behind him and reached, putting the loop of his rope over the bed post. 

"You know, you offered me some wine if I pretended to be your dog." Sam said. "But I'll have you begging for me while you're tied up to a post like one." Dean had landed face down, but had gotten up on his knees and elbows. "Who's like a dog now?"

"I think you're deluded." Dean said. 

Sam stood on his knees on the bed behind him and parted his cheeks. Dean grit his teeth. "You're so beautiful." Sam said and gave a small slap to his ass to watch it jiggle. 

"You're perverted." Dean shot back. He felt something slightly sticky and thick nudge between his cheeks. 

"Undoubtedly." Sam said as he watched his cock head kiss Dean's entrance as it opened slightly and shut as Dean clenched and unclenched. "You remember how thick I was in your throat?" He asked. He held his dick with one hand and pressed down on the small of Dean's back with the other. "You'll think I'm even thicker, here." 

He pressed against the small entrance and Dean hissed. He pushed, hard, and the hole gave way, stretching around the fat head. Sam groaned and Dean cried out. Both paused and breathed hard. Sam felt Dean trembling. He caressed his back. "Your first cock." He said. "Open wide." And pushed deeper. 

Dean will forever deny the sounds he made as Sam pushed into him. Finally Sam's pelvis met his ass and Dean shook as some tears fell to the mattress. 

Sam leaned over him and pressed his chest to Dean's back. "How does it feel?" He asked. 

"Like it's my fucking birthday." Dean bit back, his voice rough.

"Good boy." Sam said, and Dean raised his head, confused. Sam caught his head and kissed him, licking into his mouth. 

"You bitch." Dean said when Sam let his head go. 

"Mm." Sam said, and rocked into him. "Jerk." Deans' fingers curled into fists again. Slowly, Sam began thrusting.

**Author's Note:**

> I have ideas for the continuation of this fic. This is, after all, only day one of their week-long capture. If you'd like another chapter, please leave a kudo!


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